


Darkbeast

by OhNoHello



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bloodborne Fusion, Anal bleeding, Angst, Blood, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Choir!Hermes, Cock sleeve, Darkbeast Charon, Enthusiastic Consent, Gore, Horror, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tongue Fucking, Violence, it's monster fucking, monster fucking, the dick is big
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:29:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhNoHello/pseuds/OhNoHello
Summary: The end of the month when the moon bled red and cast the land in ruddy shadow was their rendezvous. A beast of a man who had not yet turned, but fought with all the slaughter of an animal. Great arms that rend through the creatures of nightmares, leaving behind nothing but smears of blood on cobblestones. A tall and imposing figure that towered over his prey, looked upon them with impassive, bloodless eyes, heart made of stone.Hermes loved him upon sight.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 168





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **PLEASE READ THE TAGS CAREFULLY**
> 
> This is a monster fucking, violent, bloody, bloodborne au. Someone gets hurt BADLY and there's a fair amount of body horror. Please read at your own safety. 
> 
> This. This one is for me. This fic was written and catered to my very specific niche tastes. I wanted a charmes bloodborne au with a darkbeast Charon. I wanted monster fucking. I wanted N A S T Y 
> 
> Sometimes you gotta feed yourself bc you're a picky fuck

Leaves and branches crunched like so much decayed flesh underfoot as Hermes dashed through the forest. He moved under the guise of continuous night, flying over roots that dared to jut out of the ground and the sloping hills that rolled like waves. A gleeful grin donned on his face, excitement racing through his veins like so much poison. 

He had an appointment and did not intend to be late. 

Studies had stalled Hermes and he had to rush double time. Eyes ever turned to the heavens, looking to the cosmos for the answers the Church had so many questions on, instead of digging below the earth where they were truly found. 

Hermes went to Byrgenwerth to study the stars and open his eyes, not to become a miner. But he did reap the benefits of his peers’ efforts. 

Vials clinked together in his satchel, thick glass singing as Hermes leapt over another suspicious pile of leaves. Hissing spat behind him, but he moved too quick to heed the serpent any regards. 

The woods were dark and filled with monsters, but Hermes’ joy out powered any fear. 

He was off to meet the hunter. 

The end of the month when the moon bled red and cast the land in ruddy shadow was their rendezvous. A beast of a man who had not yet turned, but fought with all the slaughter of an animal. Great arms that rend through the creatures of nightmares, leaving behind nothing but smears of blood on cobblestones. A tall and imposing figure that towered over his prey, looked upon them with impassive, bloodless eyes, heart made of stone. 

Hermes loved him upon sight. 

It was a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, as Hermes was wont to do. The hunter had whirled on him, his disdain for the Church and all her sects made clear with the jagged blade to Hermes’ throat. One look at his Choir robes and murderous intent wafted off Charon like pheromones. Hermes had only a smile for the tower of a man, a fascination he rarely spared for mortal life. 

For whatever reason, the hunter spared Hermes. Be it something he saw in Hermes’ defiant smile, his lack of terror in the face of death, or their yet undefined mutual relationship. Whatever it was, Charon the Hunter, pulled his jagged clever away from Hermes throat and spared him. 

What followed was the monthly visits. The moonlit meetings where Charon stood in the clearing, deep within the forest behind Byrgenwerth. Hunts frequently left hunters with irreparable damage, but Hermes’ Church had the cure. 

Blood. 

Blood of the one left behind. Their mule underneath the earth. Hermes stole the vials, intended for study, intended for perversion of the flesh, and brought them to heal his sweet infatuation. A ragged and ripped Charon came limping to Hermes in the middle of the long night and Hermes was quick to administer his well trained blood healing. 

Deep set eyes that glowed violet and violent in the dark would pin Hermes in place. Silently questioning his intentions as he stuck Charon’s thigh with the cosmic ichor. He never asked, he never spoke, nothing more than the quiet grunts of pain and acknowledgement, but Hermes heard his questions regardless. 

What did Hermes get out of this relationship? 

Charon was sure to have his suspicions. A member of the Choir, sneaking blood to a hunter in the middle of the night. It reeked of experimentation. Of a desire to take Charon’s human form and distort him to something far worse. 

Hermes’ intentions were far more sinister. 

For just a glance to see the man. Just a peek around the corner. To feel his body heat as he leaned in near, the chill of his breath against Hermes’ cheek. 

Hermes would talk to Charon, his lips spilling secrets like a waterfall. Tell him of his studies, of his learnings. Tell him of the Church and their blood healing. Carefully skirt around the Great One that Hermes had only heard stories of, things he was not supposed to know. All the while leaning in closer, letting his hands trail over a deceptively powerful body, wanting nothing more than to be crushed by him. Listing like a ship with a desire to press his lips against the cracked hunter’s own. 

Charon could end him if he so chose and Hermes would go down willingly. 

One last hop skip over a river and Hermes entered their designated clearing. A space that was seemingly made just for them. A place they had found together, slipping between the treacherous streets of Yharnam and the serenity of the Moonside Lake. Through the fumbling of hidden corners and near misses, the opening among the trees had been a gift. Hardly touched by the horrors of the outside world, leaving only a room for two. 

Charon stood in the center of it, bathed in moonlight. 

Hermes paused in the fringes to stare at his unrequited love. The curve of his back accentuated by his blood soaked coat. A drapery that hid his magnificent body underneath layers of heavy fabric. A large hat that hid his eyes and intentions, hiding a gaunt face in shadow. He had his back turned to Hermes, leaning on his deadly weapon, a cleaver that stood just as tall as he, digging into the earth like a crutch. He was hunched over, the coin and teeth of his trophies clinking together with shivers in the night. 

Absolutely exquisite. 

“Hello my fair associate,” Hermes sang as he all but danced into the clearing. A noisy ring of sound, but any who dared to approach would feel the rusted steel of Charon’s wicked blade. “Glad to see you as punctual as ever, your reputation precedes you. Or is it just that you would care to see me again? For your dosage to patch you up. I am ever at the ready. . . with. . .” 

As Hermes drew closer, he saw the marks upon the ground. Flesh, fallen like dead petals crumpled on the ground. Pieces of skin that had sloughed right off the bone. 

Hermes could make out the features of a face. An almond shaped hole fit for an eye, pale lashes that glinted in the moonlight, an empty mask without a face. 

Hermes froze. 

He had missed the convulsions. The painful telltale twitches of the body as it acclimated to its new found status. He missed the stink, the familiar reek of experiments in the Orphanage. When the human form shifted into something greater. When it distorted and contorted and turned. 

Charon jerked as he twisted in place, the golden trophies around his neck jingling like church bells. He looked over his shoulder, hunched over, hands grinding against the handle of his cleaver. 

His face was gone. Missing. Fallen away. Leaving behind darkened bone, a ghastly grimace of an open skull. Sunken eyes were gone, leaving only deep sockets. A bare hole where a nose had once been. A purple light pulsed deep within, pale as an exploding nebulas and glowing as those open holes fixated on Hermes’ position. Violet mist hissed between exposed teeth like steam.

Realization had set in. As a member of the Choir, Hermes recognized instantly the transformation Charon was under. It was attachment that left Hermes weak. 

“Boss?” Hermes asked in a small voice. 

The pallid jaw hung open and roared out at Hermes. 

_”Kkuuuuaaggh!!”_

The trees shook. The very forest itself quivered. And Charon’s body exploded. 

Brilliant violet light blinded Hermes and he held up his arms to protect his eyes. Dust pushed back in a circle, the ground thudding from the impact of a bomb. The sound of flesh hit wet upon the ground, flew against the trees, fulminating around the blank center. 

Charon’s body grew. It unfurled. It unfolded. Long gangly limbs hit the ground, like willowy trees, jutting in violent angles, the power in them undeniable. A hunched over back shuddered up like a mountain, draping Hermes in shadow. Spindles like hair erupted from the back of it, mistaken for fur or branches or other materials known to a mortal plane. Claws dug into the earth, as large as Charon had once been, each talon made of solid gold that gleamed in the moonlight. A crested hollow chest just out into an elongated neck, wrapped in a golden collar and chains of gold, adorned with Charon’s unmistakeable trophies, distorted to match his actual kills rather than the ones he had taken from. 

Charon looked up, his neck craning slowly, twisting to look Hermes in the eye. 

The skull of a face glared hungrily at the Choir member. Eyes empty and hollow and wide, swirling with purple vapor that seeped between his sockets, between exposed teeth, through the jutted ribs. It plumed around this new vision of Charon like an elemental cloud. 

Charon’s hunched form rivalled even the great structure of Byrgenwerth in size. Even as he was on all fours like the animal he was. A soft clicking rattled like snarls in the back of his throat and an angry huff plumed another cloud of smoke. 

His single minded intent clear. 

_Run._

Hermes gulped in a breath of air and took off in a dead sprint. Another great roar cut through the night, but Hermes kept moving. He felt the wind whistle behind his back and he dropped into a roll as that massive gold tipped claw went flying over his head. Hermes whirled on the beast and raised his Rosmarinus, ready to spray down the monster. He could barely get his finger on the handle when the second claw swiped at him. 

It hit. Hard. Making contact with all the mercy of a brick wall. 

Hermes went flying, clearing the space of their open plain, and his back hit a tree. He fell to his knees, his cap flying off, and without the comfort of his shade, the moonlight might as well have been a day star. He blinked, wincing in the glory of the red moon, and almost missed the rush of adrenaline that screamed at him to _flight_. 

Hermes was on his feet and making for a mad scramble, deep into the woods, away from the hunter that hunted him. 

He was fast. The fastest in Byrgenwerth. Faster than all his peers. He had outrun many a monster deep in the hunt. No kin could touch him. 

Charon, it seemed, was faster. 

He was struck. A veritable avalanche of a fist dropped on him heavy and Hermes hit the dirt. The air was expelled from his lungs, a root hitting him hard in the sternum. His jaw clicked as it smacked against the ground. 

He didn’t have the air to scream. 

Those mighty claws dragged Hermes back through the dirt, back into the clearing where he loved Charon so dearly. He was flipped like a ragdoll onto his back and another great fist dropped down on him. A claw pierced his shoulder and Hermes screamed ragged as the gold cut through flesh, pinning him to the dirt. 

He could feel the cool of the beast above him, frigid as the metal that was lanced through his shoulder. The vapor pooled on his face, smelling of ozone. The claw in his chest curled, digging against his skin, and widening the wound. Coiling deeper near more fragile bits of Hermes’ body. Hermes clung to it in a futile effort to make it stop and peeled his aching eyes open to look up at his tormentor. 

A face as large as his body, a skull that stared gruesomely down at him, contorted into a forever mask of an unmoving grin. Within the pools of the beasts’ eyes, Hermes could see the swirling explosions of nebulas so far away. The cosmos that he loved so dearly, as much as he once had the hunter. While hair hung in a ripped curtain around the two of them, soft as Hermes had always imagined it to be, cutting the world off and leaving nothing but the two of them inside. 

Hermes smiled. Shaking and weak, but still he could not fight the joy. He reached up to brush the face he had memorized in his dreams. 

“Charon,” he said weakly, blood dribbling out of the corner of his lips. “You have ascended. You can See.” 

The calculating fingers of a scholar were gentle and intimate as they brushed against the cold bone. Charon, the Hunter, snarled and roared again into Hermes’ face. 

“HUUUAAGGH!” 

Hermes was pushed further into the dirt, but he did not flinch. How could he, when the one he loved the most was so near? When he was perfection itself. 

He waited on that final blow. He waited on a death that he gladly welcomed, had welcomed since their introduction. 

Instead, those violet eyes filled with smoke only stared. They travelled down Hermes’ body, taking in the bloody mess that was his robes. 

There was something, a quality, that was almost reverent about the beast’s examination. Something far more carnal. A hunger that had nothing to do with food. Sustenance of a wholly different kind. 

A hunger Hermes knew all too well. Since Charon. 

He laughed, manic, blood spitting up onto his cheeks. As a man, Charon had been a closed tome, his secrets obscured. But without the barrier of such things as dignity, the great monster he had become was as open as a summer day. 

And he _wanted._

Charon coiled in closer, his haunches shuffling in and crowding Hermes’ prone form. Gold necklaces that ran in and out of taut flesh clanged against each other with surprising delicacy. He raised his free claw and almost delicately curved one perfectly sharpened edge into the hem of Hermes’ collar. Hermes’ throat bobbed, his breathing picking up with not just the necessity of survival. He arched, lifting his chest to meet Charon. 

Charon dragged his claw down. 

Cloth ripped like a song in the night and the chill of the air kissed bare skin. For all his size, for all his violence, Charon moved with a careful delicacy. Releasing the Choir robes of their tension and having them unfurl before him. The tip of his claw dragged against Hermes’ skin, leaving a fresh scratch that blossomed with beads of blood. Hermes hissed between his teeth, but dare not look away. 

In one fluid movement, Charon pulled his arm back like a dance, leaving Hermes bare in the moonlight. 

Hermes smiled in pride, content with the way Charon drank his vision in. He managed to rest a shaking hand on the curve of Charon’s cheek bone, caressing him as if a lover. He leaned forward, pushing against the post that drove through his body. His goals far more important than the hot, numbing pain. 

He rested his lips against frozen teeth. 

Once a dream to be held so sweetly by Charon, to have met chapped, cracked lips with his own, far outweighed by meeting the mouth of a deity. Oh how sweet and rapturous, Hermes could have drifted off then and there. 

Charon pushed him back into the earth and his skull bounced off the packed dirt. He bit his tongue. 

“Haaaa. . .” Charon breathed down onto Hermes. 

Hermes coughed, his chest convulsing, trying to get clean air into his abused lungs. His eyes were hot and stung with tears, but could not stop the glee in his heart. He tried to right himself, peering up at the heavenly figure above him. 

Maintaining that cool eye contact, he spread his legs, his boots dragging divots into the earth. The last of his robes fell away, revealing an aching erection, flat against his stomach, hard at attention. 

“Please,” Hermes croaked. “Charon, please. You’re all I ever wanted.” 

The great beast reared up, Charon the Hunter, Charon the Hungry, rose like a mighty shadow in the night. Pinpoints of purple glowing in the darkness. Gleams of gold. Staring down at all Hermes had to offer. 

“Break me,” Hermes pleaded. 

Charon’s unoccupied claw hovered over Hermes’ body, tracing the shapes of pitiful human muscle. Steadily, it lowered, just enough to make Hermes’ skin prickle with anticipation. Shiver from blood loss. It rested neatly between Hermes’ spread legs, palm pressing against his cock, elongated golden claws clacking as they maneuvered into position. 

Hermes keened, his back arching up off the earth, trying to find some friction against the leathery hand. The definition of bone created grooves for him to rut up into. But Charon pushed, a less than pleasant pressure, shoving Hermes’ hips back to the earth, rubbing his ass into the dirt. 

“Please Charon,” Hermes sobbed. “Please please please.”

Charon took pity on his pretty prey. His hand slid down, as if still human, as if touch still meant something. The sheer bulk of it splayed Hermes’ legs wider, forcing him open. As it trailed, a thumb traced down Hermes’ stomach, pressing and touching and playing with his toy as he pleased. It gave Hermes the pressure on his cock, griding it into Hermes’ skin. 

Hermes wailed, his head flopping to the side, ignoring the sweet, blissful pain of it in favor for savouring Charon’s gifts. 

Charon crouched low, lowering his face closer. Eyes filled with a menace that Hermes could taste. Or it may have been the metallic of blood in the back of his throat. 

It twisted, cocking this way and that as it followed the slow path Charon’s hand had trailed. Until slowly, Charon lowered his maw between Hermes’ legs. 

A tongue, entirely too human for that preternatural face, lolled out between hellish teeth. Thick and long, framed by that ethereal vapor that pooled high into the air. Swirling like so many birds into the night, backed by stars. 

The wet expanse touched. 

Hermes threw his head back. His teeth felt wet as they clenched together. He gurgled. But all that mattered was the hot, wet, pressure between his legs. 

It curled around the shape of him, going between his legs, between the cleft of his ass. It rubbed against his hole, tasting of him, teasing him. It slid, wet, up and down, and Hermes wanted nothing more than to _feel it_. 

Charon rumbled, his head moving glacial slow as he traced the natural shape Hermes made. His tongue folded in on itself and pressed against the painful dick that had become Hermes’ world. Hermes’ eyes snapped open at the sudden shock of relief, the pressure that was placed on his cock. He choked, deep in the back of his throat. Eyes wide and staring up at the bent structure of an arm that loomed over Hermes. His hand slapped at the air until he could find a handful of white hair. He fisted it and pulled, but that did nothing to stop the beast between his legs. 

The desire must have run so rampant through the hunter when he was human, the self deprecating restraint he must have had was almost admirable. To only become the sole drive, the sole goal of the monster he had become. 

Charon’s tongue _pressed._ It convulsed and pulsated. It moved in small micro movements of the powerful muscle within. Licking and tasting and rubbing and spurring Hermes’ erection ever forward. 

“Charon. . .” Hermes whimpered and pulled on the hair in his hand. “Ch-charon. Yes. Let me please you, great Charon.” 

Hair tight in hand, Hermes tilted his chin to look down at the creature between his thighs. Twin pools of swirling purple light stared back up at him, over Hermes' hips. The tongue flicked over the head of his dick, tasting his stomach. 

Hermes fingers shook as they tightened on Charon's curls. His smile wicked quivered with onset mania. 

"Oh yes," he hissed. "All the better to See."

Charon fisted Hermes’ leg, his claws grooving around each other. He lifted it into the air, dragging Hermes half cocked off the ground, putting strain on the pin in his shoulder. His ass bare and off the ground, spread eagle and angled just right for Charon to get a second taste. 

He turned his skeletal head to trace the musculature of Hermes' thighs. He lapped up the curve of Hermes’ hips, over his cock, pressing into the place just under his sack. He tilted Hermes, folded him, until he could truly lick between the globes of his ass. Maneuvering Hermes at his will, where he wanted him, and Hermes would only ever follow. Lapping at him like a man dying of thirst. The way a dog laps at blood. 

Hermes' entire being vibrated. Either from the knocking on death's door or the orgasmic ministrations of the former hunter, he did not know nor did he care. He shivered, selfishly chasing his climax. 

The claw through his shoulder ripped free with a squelch and a spray of blood. Hermes threw back his head and howled into the night. Severed nerves sprinkled like static up and down Hermes' arm and he felt the muscles pull in the side of his neck up to his teeth. A rush of warm blanketed over his bare arm, chilling instantly in the night air. Pain that was somewhere between a masochistic heated pleasure as his body futilely scrambled to heal open wounds. 

Hermes was not given long to dwell on it as a bloodied hand scooped him off the ground and lifted him in the air. Robes flapped around him like abandoned drapery, tattered and threadbare, beating like ineffective sails. Charon still had his grasp around Hermes' thigh and pulled his legs wide. 

Charon opened his mouth, smoke rising from the hollow depths, and he lowered Hermes. 

Hermes was seated upon that fat tongue. 

A full body shiver shuddered over Hermes and he gasped, his head rocking back, eyes wide to see the stars above. The tongue between his legs undulated, a simple rocking motion that ground against Hermes' hips, convincing him to move with the wave. Hermes groaned, his body shifting and pulsating against the wet that dug into his ass. His fingers dug into the gold of Charon's claws, nails breaking. He pushed down, grinding against the wet muscle, face twisted in blissful degeneration. 

Charon pulled Hermes wider until he felt the strain just inside his thighs. His great monstrous head tilted back to drink from Hermes like nectar. His tongue flicked, swiping over Hermes in a single swish. Deep guttural throaty convulsions gurgled deep from the expanse of Charon's hollow throat. 

Hermes gasped. 

The plume of chaotic energy fumed heavy from Charon's depths and encapsulated Hermes in a cocoon of smoke. It stung his eyes, clogged his nose, wedged its way into his gaping wound. He felt it cup his cock, brush his ass. It filled his throat, choking off any blessed oxygen from reaching his lungs. Hermes squeaked as one last noise escaped his throat and then nothing more. 

The tongue flipped over into a saddle and Hermes was angled into it. His hips tilted down to properly fuck his dick against the slicked surface. They moved as one, rubbing and grinding against each other. Charon striving to pleasure the little scholar as much as Hermes sought his own high. 

The pressure on Hermes' cock became his whole world. Death crept around the edges of his vision, dancing in blacks and bursts of color. The choke in his throat and the hole in his chest cheering the inevitable on. 

And in those last moments, for just a split second, worshipped by the god beneath him and staring at the heavens above, Hermes could gaze past the illusion of the mortal coil. He saw past and into the dream. 

He could see. 

Hermes convulsed as he came. His body fought against what he had already surrendered himself to. He came hot onto the tongue that was as cold as death. His leg spasmed in Charon's grasp, he slapped at golden claws. He bucked against the hold, his head rocking back, opening his throat in search of something resembling air. 

None of it mattered, all of it was secondary to the holy experience he was under. 

When his body was done, his cock emptied, he deflated. Limp and boneless as a used up ragdoll. 

Charon extracted Hermes from halfway into his mouth, raising him into the air. Up and out of the smog that hugged them so. He deposited Hermes onto the ground, letting the half dead scholar lay limp on the earth. Hermes coughed once, purple smog puffing out from his lungs. 

Charon unfurled, standing mighty over his prey. A darkened shadow against the red sky. Backed my monstrosities and nightmares Hermes could no longer see. Nothing more than the shadow of a mountain, lazily erupting violet haze. Hermes' chest heaved, catching his breath. A sharp pain came from his side with each breath, a whistle on his voice, but he ignored it all in favor for what was more important. 

A shudder rattled up Charon's exposed bones and a low rumble built like an earthquake in the distance. The great growl of a pained animal swelled. Charon threw his head back and opened his humanlike mouth. 

_"GGRRRAAAAHH!"_

Without a second longer, the great beast turned and took off into the night. He slid his body between the trees, ducking down under the forest's canopy. The ground shook and the heavy footfalls only lasted for a breath. Then silence reigned. 

Whatever hunter unfortunate enough to cross Charon's path would never hear him coming. 

Weak puffs of purple sputtered from Hermes' lips. A feeble laugh coiled under each one. It built as he regained his breath, his face splitting into a smile. 

He survived. He survived the man he loved attacking him with the raw sexual ferocity only benefiting a god. And even bleeding out onto the forest floor, Hermes could only feel sheer joy. 

He rolled onto his side, his dead arm flopping over his body, unstoppable laughter fell from his lips. He dragged his body to his fallen satchel and dug inside. Still giggling, Hermes pulled out a vial of blood and sat up to the best of his ability. Using the dregs of his knowledge, what he could remember in his compromised, damaged, fucked out state, he administered blood healing to his wounds. 

The blood of the cosmos began its work neatly knitting his wounds together. Hermes could feel his arm healing, his body become whole again. He could feel it and it was _wrong._

The giggles died out and he twisted to look down the invisible path Charon had run down.

He needed to see the beast again. 

Maybe it was time for him to join the hunt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood rumbled like tectonic plates shifting beneath a dormant mountain. Hot as magma as it trudged through angry veins. With all the nurturing care of exploding stars. 
> 
> The great beast lumbered in his place, waiting on the next hunter fool enough to stick him. Quicksilver bullets lodged in his side and scrapes from beast claws left gashes in his flank. Stripes of battle. 
> 
> Those who left them did not step away from him alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE **MIND THE TAGS**
> 
> so there's this horrible witches circle of brainworm gremlins consisting of me, Umi, and Audi and we all had the horrible idea to write a trifecta of bloodborne au filth 
> 
> SO HERE'S THE DEPRESSING CHP 2 FROM BEAST CHARON'S POV
> 
> ENJOY~

Blood rumbled like tectonic plates shifting beneath a dormant mountain. Hot as magma as it trudged through angry veins. With all the nurturing care of exploding stars. 

The great beast lumbered in his place, waiting on the next hunter fool enough to stick him. Quicksilver bullets lodged in his side and scrapes from beast claws left gashes in his flank. Stripes of battle. 

Those who left them did not step away from him alive. 

He paced, feeling the dirt beneath his hands. His palms sooted from walking on all fours. Smoke hissed from deep within his chest, where his heart once was housed. 

Blood pumped in his ears. 

Another step then another. Gold clanging against one another, smoke trailing behind him. He turned to prowl in the other direction, huffing complaints under his breath. Deep guttural snarls that shook the earth, a warning to all those who dare approach him. 

He would hunt them down. As he had the monsters before them. 

He was a Hunter. 

Charon hunched, gold tipped claws digging into the earth. The last gasps of a dying man seeped from his mouth. The cool night air stung the exposed bones of his cheeks. 

Night had long descended, a shrill darkness that swallowed up all of Yharnam. The town loomed overhead like one of Charon's monsters. Like one of Charon's nightmares. Vermin crawled through her alleyways, ready to be crunched under Charon's boot. 

Charon dug his hind claw into the earth, mimicking the desire of such murder that itched across his skin. Twisting his foot this way and that, bare and frigid without his boots. His claws curled in on themselves, searching for the handle of his cleaver. 

He was on the Hunt after all. 

He had found his spot, nestled between the towering structures of Yharnam that coiled in like the mourning. Deep within the bowels of the city where no light dared to penetrate. His smoke hissed and curled, a deep violet light within him pulsed and illuminated the clearing. Cobblestones that had once been so carefully laid had been ripped up by his weapons. Claws that had dug into the earth and destroyed the creations of those that had lived so long ago. Each fight tore another layer down, revealed more of the truth of the city. The dirt and the grime that had all but overrun it. The church’s awful secret that Hunters like him had to keep squashed down. 

Let them come. Let them line up. He would end them all. He would snuff the monsters out. 

Charon halted. He dug his claws into exposed earth. His head rose high in the air, glinting eyes catching the moonlight. He sniffed the air, a hollow sound that rang through his skull. Smoke curled from his nostrils, creating great clouds like nebulas in the night. 

Vermin approached. 

Power crackled over Charon’s spine, emanating around his body like armor. The gold trophies that had fixed themselves into his flesh clinked and jangled as he lowered his body, ready to pounce. He looked to the western entrance, the small darkened alleyway. A shortcut that snaked through the city. The beasts that crawled from that miserable little hole thought themselves so clever, creeping past the denizens of the city, the bloodthirsty streets, beelining to his waiting maw. 

He would end this one too. 

The violator manifested from the shadows like a wraith, clad in white and blood stains. A shock of black ran down the front and boots so coated they may have well been red. He carried a threaded cane in one hand, a bell in the other. Atop his head was a black mask and cap, the shape unique, and split across his face like a gash was an ear to ear grin. 

“Found you,” the beast sang. 

Choir. Wretched little ministrators of the church. A sect of so called men of science that held their secrets close and shared not with the rest of Yharnam. 

Save for the blood healing. 

The cursed blood that still pumped through Charon’s body, despite his lack of veins. 

The blood that the Choir had put there. 

The blood that _changed_ him. 

A single rasping snarl was all the miserable creature got before Charon attacked. 

The threaded cane whipped out to the side, its sections parting from one another going from deadly staff to deadly whip. Charon raised his mighty claw, golden talons gleaming, and by the time he dropped it, the Choir brat had leapt to the side, dropping into a roll. Dirt and debris and crackling phantasmagorical energy erupted like lightning. Creating another crater in the clearing, more brick and carved stone leaping into the night. 

The Choir member grinned ferally and went in for the attack. His cane whipped and hit Charon in his exposed flank, where most vermin aimed for, thinking it a weak point. Charon only swiped at the miniscule monster, dragging his great weapon across the ground. Sparks crackled where his gold hit the stone and his great hand was large enough to smack the little Choir member full bodied. 

The man went down hard with a yelp, pushed across the ground and face dragged in the earth. Charon barely gave him room to breath and went to bite at him, moving from one graceful movement to the next without delay. 

The Choir boy was just as quick to react, opting instead of resuming his attack, but to retreat. He leapt back, just out of biting range. He stood his ground, legs spread, as if nothing could move him. With a flick of the wrist, his bell rang out. The gash in his side knit together. Beneath robes Charon had torn, the darkbeast watched rended flesh turn smooth as the day it was created. 

“Can’t have that,” the Choir member purred. 

Charon squared up to attack again. 

“Got to be in peak physical condition.” 

Another swipe, another pounce, another attack from Charon. Jaws that gnashed at air and beat hard enough together to rattle his skull. Blows that hit nothing but empty air and staggered Charon. Beatings from the whip like cane that smacked hard against the fragile parts of his hind legs, finally forcing Charon to stagger and stumble and howl in pain. 

The Choir was quick. 

“If I want you to–”

Charon was quicker. 

He beat down on him again, coming from above this time. An attack so powerful it winded even Charon himself, but it proved fruitful. The Choir member hit the ground hard and when Charon pulled his claw, he dragged the little beast with it. 

The Choir member was unsteady on his feet as he struggled to rise again and despite Charon’s windedness from his massive attack, he had just enough to rear back his head, let out a mighty roar, and push out a sheer wall of smoke. A force like a bomb dropping, an explosive shockwave. Vapor of the stars that moved with a g-force to pop ears, had Charon had any. 

The Choir member was sent spiraling, body ragdolling across the courtyard. He slid face first across the ground, leaving behind a wake of dust. 

The limp body didn’t move. Charon waited, regaining his strength, for one last blow, even if it was already over. 

With a shaking arm, the Choir member lifted his body off the ground, and rang the bell. 

Relentless beast. 

“If I want you to,” the monster snarled. 

Charon dropped another powerful claw. Then another. Each with their own crushing shockwave, practically dragging himself to the brickwork edge of the clearing. 

The Choir member moved quick out of the way, nothing more than a blur, but Charon was blind with rage. He continued and continued and attacked and attacked, with little logic. Only to crush his enemy. Only to feel the bones crackle under his grip. 

Blood lust filled all his senses. 

It was only when he was done with his tantrum that he saw he had missed. After all that expended energy, Charon had hit nothing. 

The Choir member stood proud at the far corner. Blood spattered, tattered, breathless, but proud. He snapped his cane back to closed. 

“If I want you to,” he heaved. 

Charon turned. He snarled. 

“Love me again!” 

At that. At that word. _Love._ Charon stopped. Far greater a blow than any physical strike from the Choir’s weaponry. In no way could a bullet lodge into Charon’s chest the way that word did. No smoke or fire or light could sting as the dragged down reality of a concept Charon had never had. 

The Choir member threw down his bell and the metal rang hollow as it skittered across the stones. He tossed aside his cane, long forgotten the second it was out of his hand. He dropped into a dead sprint, closing the gap between him and Charon. 

Dazed or not, Charon knew a threat when he saw one. He reared up, ready to attack, ready to gnash and rend and claw his way through the frail little body that dared attack him. He rushed to complete with a final blow. 

Hermes stopped him. 

Small frail human hands cupped around Charon’s gargantuan skull, as gentle as a night breeze, with all the tender care of a lover. Hermes did not attack, but instead drew himself near. He pressed his face against Charon’s own, heavy hushed breaths against Charon’s exposed bone. 

“I found you, good hunter,” he whispered. 

Hermes. That was the name he gave. When Charon had first seen him, sneaking up, quiet as a ghost. He had almost slain him right then and there. It had been the smile, that lack of fear, that stopped Charon’s hand. An adoration Charon had never felt before. Even with the darkened mask obscuring his eyes, Charon could feel his gaze, could feel the way Hermes hungrily stared at him. 

Hermes, who had offered to administer blood healing to Charon whenever he needed it. Hermes, who agreed to meet at a set time every month. Hermes who snuck away from his Byrgenwerth just to see Charon. Asking nothing in return. 

But Charon knew. 

From the way his touch lingered on parts of Charon’s body that weren’t damaged. The way Charon could see his eyes behind the blind, twitching as they trailed up to Charon’s face. The heat of his breath against Charon’s cheek. 

Charon knew. 

And it had infected him. 

His waking thoughts became dominated by the little Choir member. On those hands, on the words he spoke, on the secrets he was careful not to spill. A foundation built after years dedicated to the hunt had begun to form cracks. Thoughts of what it would be to wrap his arms around a slim body, to pull him close, to breath him in deep. 

To feel human again. 

When Hermes’ poison began to contort Charon’s bones, he knew immediately. He knew long before Hermes had first pricked his arm. He knew the pact he signed when he fell and fell and fell and let his feelings get in the way of his sanity, of his humanity. When he heard the stars sing and saw the Amygdala crawling upside the spires, Charon knew what the scholar had done to him. 

And still, he dragged his aching body. 

To see Hermes. 

One last time. 

“I’ve found you,” Hermes whispered. “Charon.” 

The breath, hot with blood, pooled on the bone chill of Charon’s face and he realized the lack of feeling he’d had those continuous nights. How his skin had shed long ago and nerve endings fried up and fizzled, no longer required for the form he took. 

Hermes leaned in, a gentle creature, a far cry from the menace with a cane from moments before. His lips brushed gentle against Charon, where a mouth ought to have been, but had since been long forgotten. A grim grinning maw that was made for destruction, not tenderness. 

A pained rattle vibrated deep within Charon’s bones. The trophies that slid into his exposed ribs danced and quivered. His claws dug into the earth as his hands coiled. 

Hermes smiled, that same self satisfied grin he always wore. He pushed off his cap, the hardened fabric thudding dully as it hit the ground. Dark eyes that were full of secrets Charon would never know pinned him in place, doing far more damage than any weapon could. 

“I looked for you,” Hermes said, taking seductive sauntering steps backwards. He pulled at the tie around his neck. “Searched for you. You left me wanting, old man. How cruel.” 

Bit by bit, like plucking petals from a flower, Hermes’ Choir robes slid off his shoulders, down his sides. He shed his boots, his stockings, his gloves. Until there was no more Choir. 

There was only Hermes. 

Charon’s eyes hungrily took in the vulnerable open flesh. Skin that was toned and tanned, kissed by a sun they never saw. Hair dark that gleamed like fresh blood on the street. Earrings that caught in what dim light that dank place. Strong legs that kept him grounded, a barrelled chest, powerful arms from swinging that cane. Not the body of one who spent their days behind a tome of books. 

All of it so familiar to Charon. Like a long forgotten dream. 

Had they done this before? Had Charon seen this body before? Had he held him close in his arms and kissed the oh so breakable skin? 

Charon dug up more of the street, taking earth and crackling it into a deeper pit. The ground beneath them shook as Charon pierced something essential. A deep roar built up and the bloodlust arose once more. 

“Patience, my dear associate,” Hermes cooed, unafraid as he had always been. He reached for his robes. 

Charon snarled, a rattling hiss like a radiator vibrated his ribs. He clamped a strong arm down on the robes, just shy of a small fragile hand. Hermes only laughed. 

“Please,” he said with a roll of his eyes and reached between Charon’s fingers. He dug out from deep within the ragged cloth, a small vial. A tincture. The likes Charon had never seen before. 

Hermes went to his knees, dropping one at a time, and entering a position of prayer. He popped the top off the bottle, the lid leaning back on its hinges, and with deliberate slowness, he poured the amber liquid to his fingers. Thick and viscous, it clung to him and his fingers slipped along one another. 

“I would prefer to be more prepared,” Hermes said, reaching behind himself. “I did not intend to see you this evening. And I– ah!” 

Hermes moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head in ecstasy. 

“Want you in me,” he gasped. 

The words came out garbled, as if Charon were hearing him underwater. They were glyphs, runes that Charon had once known, but through the extraterrestrial fog that dominated his mind, they made no sense. All that he could comprehend was the nymph before him, legs spread and hand behind him, doing unspeakable things. 

Charon watched with a hungry fascination as Hermes’ head rolled back, as soft moans garbled from his lips like prayers. As he called to a god that Charon simultaneously knew intimately and was wholly ignorant of. The strength in his body and the rampant attention of a weeping cock between his legs. 

Charon knew the taste of it. 

Suddenly, painfully aware of his lumbering body, Charon tried to remember a time when Hermes wasn’t quite so small. Charon could remember when his hands weren’t gold tipped, when they could hold Hermes’ face between them. He could almost remember the warmth of skin. Had he ran his tongue between Hermes’ thighs then? 

Charon prowled. He took a single menacing step to the side, keeping low to the ground, keeping Hermes in sight. Dark eyes tracked him, hazy with lust. The Choir body bent back like a bow, toes curled. As Charon rotated around his prey, he could see the ministrations of Hermes’ hand behind his back. He could see his fingers buried deep within himself, how he pumped them in and out, faster and faster and faster. A desperation on his keen and his cock twitched at Charon’s hungry attention. 

And Charon’s attention was _captured_. 

Hermes choked out a sob and fell to his elbows. Still reaching behind himself, still working himself open. He worked slower, his fingers spreading his hole wide, his legs spreading wider. 

“F-fuck me,” Hermes whimpered. 

Charon was aware of all that he had lost, all that he had gained, but there was one bloodthirsty, carnal nature that still ran rampant within him. A lust that he had tamped down and ignored for years. One that had been reignited from the second his blade pricked blood from the neck of a scholar. 

Charon was only a man after all. 

He stalked behind the bent over body. The dark of the clearing was darkened all the more as Hermes was draped in shadow. He looked up as one giant claw thudded on the ground before him. Then the next. The great body of a beast overpowering him, Charon’s towering form. 

His prick kissed the hole Hermes had so generously opened for him. 

Hermes’ eyes widened. His head snapped up. 

“Charon. . .” he breathed and Charon could taste the manic lust. 

Charon huffed once, a great wave of smoke puffing from his body and eclipsing Hermes. He rut his hips, his dick sliding up the groove of Hermes’ ass, searching for heat, searching for friction. Hermes’ hand slapped to the ground and he rocked forward with the force of it. 

“Ch-charon,” Hermes coughed through the smog. 

It was a plea. Of how much Hermes wanted it. 

He spared the Choir member one last lingering look. The heavy lidded eyes, the arched back, the hands out like he was bowing. Mouth open and wet and wanton. 

Charon found his mark. And _pushed_. 

Hermes’ mouth opened up as if to scream, but no sound came out. He clawed at the dirt, trying to pull himself forward, but not away. A mad scramble, his legs spreading ever more wider. 

It was tight. Tighter than anything Charon had ever felt. A squeeze of something that ought not to belong, but at the same time, was coming home. A hot blooded desire that could only belong to the mortal. To something from a nightmare long ago. 

Charon rumbled. He snarled. He roared. He shook the very earth itself. Purple smoke puffed out like machinery, making motion and steam and draping over his lover like a waterfall. 

With a single plow of his foot into the earth, Charon surged forward. Hermes’ jaw hit the ground and was scraped upon it. He whimpered, his eyes wide and wet. 

Charon was in. 

A heat, a warmth, a hold, an intimacy that Charon had never known. Deep within his bones he felt it. 

_Love._

“Ch-charon,” Hermes choked around the smoke and ash and cock. “Charon. Please. Please move. Please more.” 

Like a child being denied their sweet. 

Charon looked down the delicate arch of Hermes’ back. How sweet, how beautiful was the bend. He longed to run his hands down it, to pepper the dip of his spine with kisses. He reached up, wrapping his hand around Hermes’, sliding their fingers together, interlocking them. 

His great claw encapsulated him. 

Charon grunted, thrust once into Hermes, and the little man choked. 

"M-more," the greedy thing whimpered. 

Following an instinctual base need, Charon rut into that heat once more. And again. And again. He felt the rip and tear. The rending of a solid kill. He heard the whimpers and pleas of his prey, of the monsters who now felt fear. 

The moans and gasps for more from a deranged Choir member. 

“More!” he rasped. 

Charon snarled, a deep feral thing he could have never done with human vocal chords, long since shed for the animalistic body he now inhabited. The possessed that he was. He shoved harshly forward, driving Hermes’ cheek into the scarred up earth. The cobblestone raking across his unblemished skin. Hermes’ free hand twitched, reaching out for the bell he had discarded. 

Charon’s hunger won. 

A mighty hand wrapped around Hermes’ midsection, holding him as a child would a doll. The air squeezed out of the frail body, a gasp of _’more’_ still on his needy breath. The constant insatiable curiosity and search to break what was physical. 

Charon lifted the creature off the ground. 

No longer was it an act of driving his prick up into the tight body, but in his hand a tool, a weapon, a sleeve. A salve for lust. He pumped the limp body back down on his hardness and suddenly there was no more chatter from the little scholar. Only the gurgles and moans of a being consumed by his own selfish needs. 

Charon fucked his little cock sleeve with little regard. 

He reared his head back to look at the circle that the city naturally made. A hole for which Charon could look through his grotto, his self imposed prison. To where the stars shone violent and deep. Secrets that Charon could only scratch the surface of. Whispers that fed to him scraps, dust, flecks. Not nearly enough substance. 

“Ch-charon,” his love sobbed. “Charon.” 

Charon continued to drive into the man he loved. Hands clasped and bodies flush against one another. He could feel those powerful legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer. The nails that scraped down his back. The whispers of praise and adoration in his ear, a smile against his skin. The man Hermes fucked.

A memory. The Choir member split above his head, framed back against the stars, as Charon drank of him. Glowing like the deity he was. A god that only Charon believed in, the only god Charon would worship. Worship him he did as he wriggled and writhed. 

A memory. Calloused hands that dressed his wounds. A smile behind a darkened mask and Charon knew he was looking dead in his eyes. That he held no secrets from the man, that there was nothing he could do to hide. Hermes knew him bare, knew his hidden desires that Charon could not shed. He had learned and studied Charon, a scholar who was a master of the subject. Hermes could see into his soul and knew that he had dominated Charon’s mind so thoroughly. 

He had leaned in. Had Charon leaned back? A memory? Charon meeting those lips, delicate and chaste. The sweetest flavor out in that landscape of blood. A tenderness that Charon had never known. The life he led hadn’t allowed for it, but Hermes had granted it to him. In a dream. In a fantasy. In a memory. 

Colors that blurred into one and Charon could not pick them apart. 

Had he slipped his hands around that face? Hadn’t he whispered sweet words of love? Hadn’t he? 

The world faded to white. A white room with a white bed, unblemished and perfect. Far away from Yharnam and the death and the monsters and blood. Far away from the singing Choir and the madness of Mensis. A place where the Church could not touch them. 

A place where Charon was still human. 

Hermes was in that bed. Deep chestnut hair mussed and shone in the sun. Eyes that perpetually laughed aimed on Charon. A smile that slowly grew as he turned his head deeper into the pillow. Laughter that echoed of kindness and forbearing Charon felt in his marrow. Charon’s hands, unblemished, unscarred, touched Hermes in that place. Stroked down his cheek. 

Where he loved Hermes. 

A memory. Oh how Charon hoped, a memory. Oh how Charon knew it was not.

Charon howled up into the night sky, a rasping rattle of a creature without lungs. Without air. A monster’s call. 

He filled up the warm body between his legs. An orgasm that came stars and white and smoke. He came violent and monstrous. He came and all humanity was forgotten. 

The screams and screeches between his legs were wholly unhuman. The sounds of a battered and abused throat. It died down as Charon’s erection emptied. 

His body slumped, boneless and useless. Smog and smoke seeped from every opening, limp and lame. The grip he had on the body in his hand slackened, cramped from having held on so tight. 

Charon, defeated, deflated to the earth. The fight gone and forgotten. 

Hermes moved. He lifted one shaking leg and managed to find his way to the other. His body quivered, be it from pain or pleasure or the horrible space where the two met. He rose to his feet, swaying in the blood moonlight. Semen and blood seeped between his legs. His own cock having been spent, ravaged and limp. He took shaking shuffling steps, as if a rigor mortis had already begun to set. One by one, he stepped into the legs of his stockings. He pulled on his boots painfully. His blood smeared robes went on with a practiced ease. 

Only when he pulled on his gloves, fingers slipping in one by one like a second skin, did he turn to Charon. A smile on his face, rueful and ruthless. A grin of triumph as he stared at the beast he felled. A smile of love from a bed that did not exist. 

“You really are something my associate,” he said, his voice rasping from overuse. “An amazement. I must research you further. See how far you can bend before you break.” 

As if fragility were Charon’s trait. 

The hat went back into place, a Choir’s cap, dusted and bloody and torn. Gone went Hermes, replaced with the Scholar. The Hunter of One. 

He lifted his bell and exhausted it of its last charge. A wince shuddered over his abused body as hidden fresh wounds knit closed. 

“I would most like to explore more of you, old man. There is a great deal that I have to process, many notes I have to jot down before they are gone from me,” he said, still grinning with mania. “But I fear my mere mortal frame demands we end our little trist. For now.” 

The threaded can snapped at his side, sections joining together in a neat row, becoming no more than a walking implement. 

“And so, it is with great fondness I bid you farewell,” the Choir member said. “I will find you well another day. And should you try to run from me. . .” 

He tucked his chin, his grin far more dangerous than any beast Charon had felled. The blood that belonged to the Old Ones that flowed free through his body shivered in promise. 

“I will Hunt you down.” 

With that, the Choir member turned in place and limped back into the shadows from whence he came. 

Charon, still splayed out on the ground in the aftershocks of his own detestable pleasure, watched the man go, wondering with a blood lust who he could have been and why he had let the beast leave. Charon stared at the place where he had disappeared until there was only an after image in the shape of a man. A terror in human skin. 

A whimper left Charon. A whine. 

It almost sounded human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got a little fucky at the end there huh?
> 
> [Check out Umi's library filth here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740522)
> 
> [and a nice altar fucking from Audi here. ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28740702)
> 
> thank you for reading 💕
> 
> Twitter: [OhNo_Hello](https://twitter.com/OhNo_Hello)  
> Tumblr: [ScrumpyLikesThings](https://scrumpylikesthings.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaahhhhh 😌 bliss
> 
> Twitter: [OhNo_Hello](https://twitter.com/OhNo_Hello)  
> Tumblr: [ScrumpyLikesThings](https://scrumpylikesthings.tumblr.com/)


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